The pitch-black Spirit Boat streaked through the sea of clouds like an ink mark tearing across the heavens, the scenery on either side stretching into blurred ribbons of light.
Inside the boat, the oppressive atmosphere had all but frozen solid.
Old Ancestor Xuanming stood with his arms folded, his face livid, clearly still seething over that arrogant message. The Alliance Leader and Old Ancestor Cangwu rested with their eyes closed, but their taut bodies betrayed their inner unease.
Emperor Jiang Wu stood at the bow beside Zhou Xuan, letting the fierce wind whip his imperial robes. His deep eyes watched the clouds racing backward ahead of them. Only after a long while did he speak in a low voice.
"You seem very confident about this third party?"
His voice was quiet, yet carried a reassuring strength.
"It isn't confidence." Zhou Xuan shook his head, his calm gaze settling on the piece of soul-calming wood he had just put away. "It's a gamble."
"On what?"
"That their greed runs as deep as ours." Zhou Xuan's tone was mild. "And that their hatred for the Court Guardian Pavilion runs deeper than we imagine."
Any faction daring enough to lay a trap right under the Court Guardian Pavilion's nose, then openly invite them into it, had to be after far more than a mere Law relic.
Emperor Jiang Wu asked no further questions.
He had lived for tens of thousands of years, witnessed countless supposedly clever schemes, and seen countless mighty cultivators swallowed by greed. Zhou Xuan's answer convinced him more than any solemn assurance could.
Because it conformed to the most fundamental rule of the Cultivation World—profit and hatred.
The Spirit Boat was pushed to its utmost speed.
The time it took an incense stick to burn passed in a flash.
When